


Down, dog

by Blowfish_Diaries



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, First Time, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Rimming, Smut, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 09:06:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blowfish_Diaries/pseuds/Blowfish_Diaries
Summary: Draco does yoga; Harry cannot deal.Or: a smutty, cracky attempt at exemplifying my "Harry is obsessed with Draco's [perfect] arse" headcanon.





	Down, dog

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE thank you to my wonderful beta, @LowerEastSide

_Snap ___

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Hermione looked up from her Transfiguration essay, sighing. After four days straight of this, she knew what that sound meant.

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“Harry, why don’t you just switch seats? This is ridiculous! That’s your fourth quill in as many days.”

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“I shouldn’t have to, Hermione! This is… well, it’s _obscene, _is what it is. Why should we have to be subjected to this? I’ve half a mind to complain to Minerva.” Harry’s quill lay in two pieces on the table, his fists clenched and his eyes glued to the other side of the Eighth-Year Common Room.__

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“To be fair, Harry, this is a common room, for all of us, so technically he’s allowed to be doing that here.” Hermione reached behind her and retied her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. It was October, but the humidity had stuck around this year, causing her already unruly hair to further revolt from her attempts at reigning it in.

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“There are limits to what people can do in a common room. LIMITS.” 

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“For the love of Merlin! Just go and ask him to stop it if it’s bothering you so much. Go. Now. Shoo!” She might feel bad for instigating what would undoubtedly turn into, at best, a nasty shouting match, but she had to finish this Transfiguration essay today. She didn’t return to Hogwarts to do…whatever it is Harry’s been doing for the past six weeks, which mostly involves snapping quills and staring at certain high-cheek boned blonde gits during every single class they have together. Hermione would be worried if Harry weren’t so bloody obvious. He was worse than Ron when he wanted to shag. 

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“Yeah, you’re right, Hermione. This is just too bloody much for anyone to take.” Harry stood up and marched over to the large bay windows that overlooked the lake. Draco Malfoy was currently bent over double on top of a large purple mat, his arms outstretched so that he formed an inverted V-shape. His blond hair was gathered into a knot at the top of his head, and he was clad in thin black joggers and a tight long-sleeved shirt. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be concentrating deeply. 

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“Oi! Malfoy! Enough already!” Harry crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to exude a “don’t-fuck-with-me” air. 

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Malfoy bent his knees and hopped forward, rising to his full height slowly. He turned to face Harry with a scowl on his face; he was sweating lightly and a few strands of his straight hair had fallen out of place. “What the bloody hell, Potter?! I’ve told you before, this is a prescribed therapy from a licensed Healer!”

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“Well do it somewhere else! I don’t need to be seeing your arse every time I look up from the table while I’m…studying! Yes, STUDYING!” Harry moved his hands to his hips, and glared at the other boy.

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“Then. Don’t. Look. Up.” Draco pointed his finger at Harry’s chest and continued to shout at him. “Where else am I supposed to do this? In the dormitory? Where there is approximately three bloody feet between each bed? Or would you rather me do this in the Great Hall? How about I jump up on the table for my sun salutations? Hmm? Is that what you want, Potter?” 

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Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t care where you do your ‘prescribed therapy,’ Malfoy, just do it somewhere that I don’t have to see your scrawny arse on display!”

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“That’s the second time in about one minute that you’ve mentioned my arse, Potter. Maybe the problem here isn’t my yoga practice. Maybe it’s that you want my perfectly sculpted and not at all scrawny arse!” 

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Harry’s mouth opened and closed several times. He folded his arms across his chest again, and glowered at Malfoy, muttering something about “completely missing the point.”

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When Harry didn’t move, Malfoy turned back around and hopped back into a push-up position before snaking his upper body down and out so that his chest was pushed up towards the sky. With a smirk back at Potter, he rose onto his toes and back into the V-position that he had started in. 

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Harry let out a half groan, half squeak. “That’s it, Malfoy. I’m done messing about. Up you get.” 

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“OH THE LOVE OF CIRCE, JUST FUCK AND GET IT OVER WITH!” Someone near the fire, possibly Neville Longbottom, who was definitely no longer Harry’s friend, yelled over to the two of them. A loud round of applause broke out in the Common Room, along with shouts of, “Please! Give us all some peace!” and, “Just admit it!”

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“I died for you lot, and this is what I get?” Harry roared back. 

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“You died so Draco could suck your cock, apparently. Now go rub up against each other and leave us all the fuck alone!” Blaise Zabini, newly minted Undesirable Number One to Harry, bellowed. 

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“Honestly, I’ll give you five galleons if you take your shouting match elsewhere. Some of us are trying to get work done.” Pansy didn’t look up while she spoke, sprawled over the arms of a chair and flipping through _Witch Weekly._

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Harry grabbed Malfoy’s wrist, and pulled him up and out of the Common Room towards the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. Halfway up the stairs Malfoy knocked Harry’s hand away and rounded on him. “Are you fucking kidding me with this nonsense? I’m the one who should be herding you, you insufferable idiot! I was in the middle of my practice!” He pulled Harry up the rest of the stairs and flung the door of the first dormitory on the right open. 

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“What the fuck, Malfoy?” Harry yelped as he was pushed up against the door to his and Ron’s room. Despite having filled out a bit over the summer, Malfoy was still slightly taller than Harry, and he used his advantage to bracket the other boy’s head with his palms pressed up against the door. 

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“Is this what you want, Potter?” Malfoy took another step forwards and inserted his right leg between Harry’s. “Do you want to fuck me? Is that why you’ve been so bothered by me this year? Or is it just because you hate Death Eater scum and want to hex me into oblivion?”

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“I…I don’t hate you, Malfoy.” Harry’s breath was coming quickly and he could feel all his blood rushing straight to his cock. “I, erm, I… I don’t want to, you know, stare at you…all the time… I just…” Harry’s train of thought slid off the rails as Malfoy leered at him and ground his hips against his captive’s. 

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“Oh, Merlin.” Harry’s head hit the door with a _thunk _and Malfoy leaned down to whisper into his ear. “Well, this is an unexpected twist, Potter. I thought I’d have to keep bending over in front you for at least another two weeks before you broke down and admitted you wanted me.”__

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Harry’s eyes opened and he lifted his head, ready to deny the accusation, to yell at Malfoy, maybe even to send a stinging hex at his head. But the other boy was flushed, his cheeks pink and his breath hot on Harry’s neck; their erections were pressed together and his resolve floundered. Instead, he grabbed Malfoy’s right wrist and spun him around, reversing their positions. Harry leaned in and tilted his head, watching as Malfoy’s eyes went dark with arousal, his pupils blown wide. He took a moment to savor the feeling of having rendered Malfoy temporary silent and he reached out with his tongue, licking the other boy’s bottom lip, not yet kissing; just tasting. Malfoy opened his mouth and tried to capture Harry in a kiss, but the other boy backed his head away and licked a stripe up Malfoy’s neck, nibbling on his earlobe. Malfoy groaned and bucked his hips into Harry’s, seeking friction but finding none as Harry backed up completely.

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“You’ve been torturing me for weeks, you prat. My turn.” Harry walked backwards a few steps and pulled his old Chudley Cannons shirt over his head and removed his glasses, tossing both carelessly on his bed. Malfoy stood still against the door, his erection tenting his cotton joggers obscenely as he took in the tanned skin and light dusting of black hair on Harry’s chest. “Turn around, Malfoy.” Harry undid the button and zip of his denims, lowering them along with his boxers and stepping out of both so he was left naked. Malfoy gasped a bit as he took in the long line of Harry’s cock, standing to full attention and leaking slightly at the tip. Harry took himself in his fist and gave himself a few rough strokes, his eyes glinting dangerously. “I said turn.”

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Malfoy obeyed slowly, looking back at where Harry stood waiting. “What are you going to do?” 

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“I’m going to taste your arse, Malfoy. I’ve been left staring at it for long enough.” Harry pressed his body flush against Malfoy’s and leaned in to whisper into his ear, “If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just say so and I’ll back off immediately, yeah?” Malfoy nodded and shivered. Harry pulled Malfoy’s shirt off, trailing a finger down his spine while he peppered kisses on the back of his neck. He then knelt, taking Draco’s joggers and pants down with him. 

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“Godric help me,” Potter barely spoke above a whisper as he slowly lifted his hands to cup Malfoy’s arse. He kneaded his fingers into the supple flesh, admiring the way his olive-toned skin complimented the pale expanse of Malfoy. Harry leaned in and pressed a kiss to one of his cheeks, then grew bolder when nothing except a muffled groan came in response. He licked and bit at a fleshy spot and Malfoy pushed his arse back, meeting Harry’s mouth and silently demanding more. Harry had never done this before, but he’d read about it in _The Wizard’s Guide to Gay Sex _that he had purchased over the summer from an owl-delivery service. He grinned, thinking about how he was going to utterly destroy Malfoy for anyone else’s tongue.__

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Harry grabbed his wand and cast a cleaning spell, causing Malfoy to jump a bit, but he remained pressed against the door, waiting for Harry’s next move. Plying his cheeks apart, Harry licked into Malfoy’s arse. “Fucking hell, Potter!” Harry stopped and sat back onto his heels immediately, looking up to gauge if he had crossed a line. Malfoy pushed his arse farther towards Harry’s head, grunting unhappily. “Why’d you stop? Keep going, you tit!” Harry smiled and dove back in, swirling his tongue around the other boy’s furled entrance. He kept going, licking and sucking, adding a finger into Malfoy’s loosened hole. 

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“OK?” Harry pulled back and asked, feeling spit dripping down his chin. His arse was beautiful and tasted perfect: slightly musky and clean and it drove Harry mad.

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“Potter, I’ve never successfully cast a nonverbal hex, but so help me Salazar I will if you don’t continue eating my arse right this moment.” Harry smirked and added another finger, beginning to slowly fuck his tight entrance. Malfoy dropped his head down, groaning loudly; he reached blindly behind him and found Harry’s head, pulling it back towards him. Harry was almost painfully hard and it sent shivers down his spine to have Malfoy demanding his ministrations. Since both of his hands were occupied, he lifted his head and told Malfoy to touch himself while Harry continued to finger and lick his hole. Malfoy complied and grabbed his leaking cock with his free hand.

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Harry could see Malfoy's arm pumping himself furiously, and he had to let go of Harry’s head to support himself against the door. “Gods, yes! Oh, fuck! Potter, don’t stop, don’t stop!” If anyone was stood outside his door right now, there would be no doubt as to their ability to hear Malfoy’s shouts. Harry’s jaw was aching but he wouldn’t have stopped for the Minister of Magic himself walking in on them. 

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All at once, Malfoy began to spasm around Harry’s fingers, and strips of white cum painted the dormitory door. Malfoy screamed in pleasure while Harry gently lapped at his hole, helping him ride out his orgasm.

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“Holy fucking Founders.” Malfoy was leaning against the door, his arse red where Harry’s hands had gripped his cheeks. He turned his head and look at where Potter was still kneeling, staring at Malfoy’s arse reverently. 

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“I want you to come on me, Potter. I want you to wank that big cock while you’re staring at my arse, knowing that it was your tongue and your fingers that made me come all over myself.” 

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Harry groaned and got to his feet, moving to bracket Draco’s lithe form with his own. “That’s right, Harry. I want you to cover my arse with your cum. Mark me. Make my arse yours.” The use of his first name, coupled with such filthy things coming out of that posh mouth made Harry groan and begin to pull on his cock in earnest. Malfoy pressed himself backwards, allowing Harry’s erection to slide between his spit-slicked cheeks. 

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“Fuck! Oh, gods, Draco! Your arse is so fucking _perfect. _” Harry would’ve been embarrassed that it took him less than a minute to come in hot ropes over Draco’s reddened cheeks, but he couldn’t be held accountable for the things that arse made him do.__

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“Clean me up, you manner-less cretin.” Harry ignored him and instead rubbed his thumbs in circles over Draco’s skin, relishing the sight of him covered in cum, looking utterly debauched. Draco sighed contentedly and leaned his head back so that it rested on Harry’s shoulder. “Your worship of my arse will take you far in this life, Potter.”

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“Potter? I thought that I was Harry, now that I’d had my tongue up your arse.”

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“You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you expect me to call you by your first name?” Draco squawked with indignation as Harry once again flipped him around, but was silenced with the soft, searching kiss that Harry pressed to his mouth. They kissed for several minutes, hugging their naked bodies together while their lips nipped and sucked at each other. 

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Finally, Harry cast a mild cleaning charm over both of them and herded Draco over to his bed, leaving their discarded clothes in a mess on the floor. 

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“You know,” Draco spoke onto Harry’s chest where he lay his head, nuzzling into him slightly as the other boy carded his fingers through his white-blond locks, “yoga has many benefits.” Harry snorted. 

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“Not only is it beneficial for mental health and aids in relaxation, but it also improves one’s flexibility. Immensely. I, for instance, can hook my leg behind my neck. Wanna see?” Draco lifted his head and waggled his eyebrows at Harry, who laughed and rolled on top of him. “Show me,” he whispered into Draco’s ear. 

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_Snap. ___

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Hermione looked up to stare at her boyfriend, who was holding the pieces of a broken quill in his clenched fists. “Ronald…” she began.

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“No, Hermione, it’s ridiculous! They can’t just pretend that’s acceptable behavior in a common area! I should never be subjected to that much of Harry’s arse!” He gestured over towards the bay window, where Harry and Draco had at one time been practicing yoga together, but had apparently devolved into fevered snogging on their mats in the past five minutes. 

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She dropped her forehead onto the wooden table in front of her, completely done with the men in her life.

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End file.
